


sharing body heat in the passenger seat

by Ravenesta



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: ??? - Freeform, M/M, Modern AU, Some Swearing, almost wrote 'modern ai' lmao, kind of a college au, pure fluff, someone let alex sleep please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenesta/pseuds/Ravenesta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The man's shoulders slumped. "Some days, Gilbert," he sighed dramatically, expression somber as he stared into the distance,  "I hate all of the world except for you. And Eliza. Angelica too, if we're pushing it." </p><p>Then he-</p><p>Flopped onto the sofa. And half onto John. And promptly fell asleep, curled into John's side, face buried into the crook of his neck."</p><p>a twist on the 'I walked into the wrong apartment but oh hEY' AU. because alex really needs a nap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sharing body heat in the passenger seat

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: Translation into chinese available!  
> http://cherishfan0320.lofter.com/post/1df5d8eb_ed8c1aa

John jumped when the door clicked, turning from his spot on the sofa just in time to see a young man stumble through the front hall, managing to half trip over his own feet in the process. He looked exhausted, long hair in a disheveled ponytail and noticeable shadows under his eyes.  
  
"Gilbert," he announced with the confidence and slight hysteria of a man who had not slept in far too long, "I am going to kill Aaron Burr. You are absolutely not to stop me from killing Aaron Burr, or I shall end you myself, you overdressed omelet." He punctuated the threat by dropping his messenger bag on the kitchen table with a thunderous crash.  
Needless to say, John Laurens was not Gilbert. Gilbert "I Have A Million Names" Lafayette had, in fact, left his apartment ten minutes previously, to pick up dinner from the Chinese place down the street and drag Hercules out of work. Laurens had no clue who this dude was, or why he had a key to Lafayette's place.

Ponytail Man continued to rant as he stormed through the hallway into the living room, still not noticing that he wasn't speaking to Lafayette. "I mean, it's bad enough that I'm sharing a dorm room and half of my classes with him, but today he starts debating with me in Washington's class on homeless youth, and the dude's fucking heartless! 'Not our country's responsibility,' he says, like the government isn't accountable for their situation in the first place, like for some reason the one percent shouldn't have to support the country's most vulnerable population, like it would _actually affect them negatively when point-one percent of their income could change someone's life_ , like--and holy fuck, Washington's T.A., Lee, actually agrees with him!" By this point, he was pacing up and down the small room, arms waving around wildly as he spoke. John watched on raptly, and he was meaning to interrupt and let the guy know that Lafayette wasn't in, but the man was clearly on a roll, and John was reluctant to halt the passionate diatribe.

The man's shoulders slumped. "Some days, Gilbert," he sighed dramatically, expression somber as he stared into the distance, (vaguely in the direction of Lafayette's bookshelf,) "I hate all of the world except for you. And Eliza. Angelica too, if we're pushing it."

Then he-

Flopped onto the sofa. And half onto John. And promptly fell asleep, curled into John's side, face buried into the crook of his neck.

For about three minutes, John just stared down at the man, face on fire. He didn't, as John had been hoping, turn out to be some kind of hallucination that would disappear if he thought hard enough. In fact, the only thing that happened was the man shifting to get more comfortable, leaning fully against John's arm, murmuring something unintelligible into his neck. The movement of his lips against the sensitive skin didn't exactly help John get his thoughts together.

John Laurens, however, considered himself a pretty adaptable guy, and he wasn't about to let this minor hiccup trip him up. His right arm was pinned down, the back pocket where he kept his phone rendered inaccessible, so there was no hope of calling Lafayette to ask for help without waking up his house guest.  
Well, Lafayette would be home soon with dinner anyways, wouldn't he? At least the dude was pretty warm. He didn't snore, either, just tiny huffs through his nose, tickling John's neck.

John internally shrugged (he would have externally shrugged as well, but it would be rude to disturb the guy, wouldn't it?) and reached for the T.V. remote. That, at least, he could reach.

 

* * *

 

John glared at his friends as they spectacularly failed at attempting to hide their amusement at his situation. Hercules was doubled over, shoulders shaking with silent, barely restrained laughter, while Lafayette grinned coyly at Laurens from behind his hand.

"Well, well, well," he teased. "It seems that you have found someone to warm your bed while I am off fighting wars!"

"Gil, who the hell is this guy? He walked in monologuing about some dude called Aaron and, uh, homeless kids? He called you an 'overdressed omelet.' Then he fell asleep. On me."

Lafayette sighed and shook his head. "This is my dear _ami_ , Alexander Hamilton. He is quite, how would you say, eccentric? This is quite likely the first time he has slept this week." He gently shook Hamilton's shoulder. " _Monsieur Hamilton_. It is time to wake up."

Hamilton gave a low groan, and attempted to burrow into John's shoulder, only really succeeding in nuzzling him. Hercules, who had just regained his composure, absolutely lost it again, going into wheezing fits of laughter. Hamilton shifted again, head turning so that he was facing Lafayette, and even despite the drowsiness in his voice, John could HEAR him squinting as he asked, "Gilbert? I'm- Wait, you're-"  
John felt Hamilton stiffen, then lean away from him, leaving John's side feeling disproportionately light. And cold.

For the first time, John actually made eye contact with the guy who had been sleeping on him for a good half-hour. The intensity of Hamilton's eyes looking up at him, even heavy and lidded with the remains of his nap, was a little unnerving.

"You're not Gilbert," Hamilton said slowly, like he was testing out the words.

"Uh, no. I'm John?" He supplied, feeling nonplussed.

Hamilton's face split into a sleepy smile, and John honest-to-god felt his heart skip a beat. "Alex," he replied cheerfully, and yeah, John was blushing again, because that was just CUTE goddammit.

Lafayette coughed, and John snapped out of it. Hercules, bad Chinese food, worse French movies selected from Lafayette's shitty collection. Not the cute guy. _Not the cute guy._  
"Perhaps you will stop accosting my friend, Alexander? I am sure he is quite uncomfortable," Lafayette suggested, still clearly trying not to laugh. John had to stop himself from blurting out something dumb, like 'I didn't mind,' or,'it was pretty comfortable, actually, he's really warm.' Besides, he _was_  just now regaining feeling in his arm.  
Alexander stared up at John for a moment longer before breaking eye contact, sitting up fully and grinning at his friend. "I admit, I was wondering why my pillow seemed more comfortable than usual."

Alexander and Lafayette had a brief argument in the hallway about whether or not he'd be joining them for dinner ( _"Gilbert, I've got three papers to write, the nap was bad enough-" "Alexander, you have got nothing due for a month at least."_ ) before Lafayette forcefully shook the bag of Chinese food and pointed to the place on the sofa beside John. Alexander flopped back down with a melodramatic sigh. Lafayette began to distribute the food, smug grin firmly in place.

Over the course of about twenty minutes, John learned several things about Alexander in quick succession. He was a law student at Columbia, wrote a column for a local newspaper, ran (from what John could count,) at least five blogs, was fluent in French, and he had a running rivalry with his roommate, Aaron Burr.  
John found himself fascinated with how Alexander spoke; he made run-on sentences sound eloquent, fit too many words into a single breath like if he stopped for a single second, he'd find that he couldn't continue or nobody would be listening, like he had to convey _everything_ in as little time as humanly possible. His body told a story all on its own, arms flying up in exaggerated gestures as he ranted, his entire body jumping and moving with the flow of his words, pulled taut like a violin string ready to snap. Laurens found himself staring in slight awe, practically able to feel the energy radiating off the man.

(John didn't contribute much to the conversation, but did, at one point, mention having volunteered and protested with several of the activist organizations Alexander had mentioned. Alexander had given him a delighted grin that made John's chest do that jumping thing again, and replied, "A man after my own heart, it seems!")

Around the four of them, food tended to disappear quickly, so there was nothing but wrappers left when Alexander had finished recounting the incident with Burr. Lafayette selected something from his DVD collection (which, Alex loudly proclaimed, had been pulled from the pits of French culture,) and they settled down to watch it, Alexander and Lafayette often mockingly repeating some of the more ridiculous lines in exaggerated accents.

John found himself paying more attention to Alexander than the movie, mainly because he didn't speak French, didn't have the patience for subtitles, and throughout the movie, Alex kept shifting progressively closer to him. It had been pretty subtle, actually, to the point that John didn't really notice until he found that the gap was closed between them, arms pressed together from shoulder to elbow, and knees touching.

Then, however, the female lead said something that, even without the subtitles, John could tell was just outrageously cheesy. John's only warning was a sly smirk sent his way, before he found himself with one Alexander Hamilton draped over his lap, hand on his forehead like a fainting maiden, simperingly repeating the line.  
John let out a nervous laugh, barking out, "Alex, _what_ ," as Lafayette and Hercules went into fits of hysterics across the room.

"Shh, _Monsieur Laurens_ ," Alexander told him with a hazy grin. "Watch the movie." Alex, of course, did not get up, instead turning so that he was curled up on his side, head resting on John's legs.  
Alex fell asleep within the next five minutes. John, half-awake, fingers absently running through long, dark hair, decided that he didn't really mind.  


**Author's Note:**

> grace> i cant believe so many ppl read founding fathers fanfic  
> me> i cant believe im writing it
> 
> let's be real tho alexander is 1000% the person who would burst into his friend's apartment like 'gILBERT HOLY FUCK YOU WOULD NOT BE L I E V E WHAT BURR SAID TODAY'
> 
> (title is from panic! at the disco's 'lying is the most fun')
> 
> EDIT: hey!! this work now has a spiritual successor [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6350506) because i know i promised id write a sequel about 10000 years ago


End file.
